Enlightenment Extra: All Lit Up
by Kate Christie
Summary: Kate and Rick explore new, lingerie-inspired aspects of their relationship. M-rated content from my lingerie story, Enlightenment. This one has emotional content and character development. And fluffy, smutty, Casketty goodness. Gotta have that.
1. Chapter 1

**Enlightenment 8 ½: All Lit Up**

**M-rated continuation of Chapter 8 of **_**Enlightenment**_**. Next chapter will be back in T-rated land. Any further M chapters will be appended to this story. **

**A gentle suggestion for the reader: this is not a chapter to read at the office. Go home, pour yourself a glass of wine (as long as you're legal), put on some jazz, and consider that you may need a cold shower afterward. Not trying to seem conceited, so if I'm wrong, please feel free to tell me! Enjoy.**

As he stepped across the threshold into her bedroom, she nuzzled against his neck. The contact threw him off a bit, apparently, since he stopped his forward motion and clutched her more tightly.

"How about you do that once you're not suspended in midair."

"Did you have trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time when you were a kid?"

"Not sure that 'chewing gum' compares to sweeping the woman I love off her feet and into her bed."

By that time he'd reached the aforementioned piece of furniture.

"Point taken."

He balanced one knee on the edge of the mattress and lowered her down. She pivoted and rose to her knees to face him as he straightened up.

"Did I mention that you're beautiful?"

He trailed his fingertips down her arms, over the sheer black chiffon sleeves of her robe. He was just far enough away to slide his gaze down for a closer look at the lingerie.

"Not sure, maybe you'd better say it again just in case." She was half grinning, half fishing.

His eyes returned to hers before he spoke, quietly serious.

"Kate Beckett, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen—"

He brought his hands to her waist, stroking gently through the layers of silk and lace.

"—or touched—"

He leaned in to nuzzle just below her ear, then placed an open-mouthed kiss there, before finishing on a gruff whisper.

"—or tasted."

The tingle started at the spot he had kissed and spread down her spine, out to her fingers, down to her toes. She had to shut her eyes to process, catalogue, let the goose bumps fully erupt. She felt dizzy, but then she realized she'd stopped breathing at some point and inhaled. Nope, still dizzy. She opened her eyes to find his close and dark before her, waiting. Her arms wound around his neck without a conscious thought on her part, and she was reaching up for his lips, clinging to him, wanting no space between them. His thumbs dug into her waist to pull her flush against him.

He moaned against her mouth and she opened for him, letting his tongue explore.

Her only thought was to touch more of him. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and down to unbutton his shirt. She had to separate from him to reach lower, tug his shirttails from the waist of his dress slacks and unbuckle his belt. He disengaged his hands from where they had tangled in her hair to allow her to slide the shirt off and to the floor.

He placed light kisses on her forehead, cheeks, nose, anywhere he could easily reach as she undressed him. Her eager fingers unfastened the front of his pants and tugged down his zipper. He slipped them over his hips, stepped out of them, then reached down to tug off his socks.

When he rose, she caught her fingertips beneath the hem of his white undershirt and ran her palms up his sides, bunching the shirt as she moved upward. When she reached his chest, he raised his arms and allowed her to tug the soft cotton over his head. Now it was her turn to look. She didn't settle for just a visual assessment, though, now that she had his flesh nearly bare before her.

She ran eyes and fingers over his broad shoulders and down along defined biceps, over forearms soft with a dusting of light brown hair. She worked her way back up over elbows and triceps and then across his collarbones to meet at the center of his chest. He had definition in his pecs, and he shivered as she ghosted her palms across his nipples. She trailed fingertips over his abs, which were toned but not rippling, and she followed the line of dark hair that began at his belly button as far as the waistband of his boxers, feeling him shudder again. She could see what she was doing to him, his arousal now obvious under his last piece of clothing. But he was letting her lead for the moment. When her eyes flicked up to his face, she saw his eyes were closed, lips parted slightly, brow furrowed as if in concentration.

She leaned into his chest, letting her silk-covered breasts brush against his skin, and kissed his lips gently. He seemed to emerge from his trance then, pulling her against him. She intentionally pressed her hips against his, and he groaned and buried his face against her neck at the contact.

"Kate, you're killing me. But God, what a way to go."

"Hey, no dying yet. I still have clothes on."

"Let's fix that, shall we?"

He pulled back and examined the knot of her robe, just above her bust line. He tugged one end until the bow unknotted and gingerly parted the chiffon to reveal her chemise. His fingers lifted the robe's edges out and back over her shoulders, to let it pool on the bed behind her.

"May I just say, so worth the wait."

She smiled up at him coyly.

"Glad you think so."

He used the tips of his index fingers to trace the thin straps down her shoulders, then to tease the skin along the edges of the lace over her breasts. When he reached the dip in the center, he dipped his head forward and placed his lips lightly against her scar. When he straightened again, his eyes were moist, fingers gripping her ribcage. She reached for him, framed his face with her hands.

"What?"

"I just love you, that's all."

She smiled.

"And did I mention that you're beautiful?"

His eyes were sparkling now.

"Hmm. I can't remember."

"At the risk of repetition, how about gorgeous—"

He kissed her chin.

"That works."

"Shh. Not done yet."

She huffed out a laugh.

"Sexy—"

He kissed the hollow of her throat, then trailed his nose along the strip of lace over one breast. The sparks of desire every touch ignited went straight to her core.

"—dazzling—"

He kissed her nipple lightly through the sheer chiffon and she gasped.

"—extraordinary."

He nuzzled across to her other breast and stroked that peak with the flat of his tongue.

"Rick?" It could have been a whimper. She thought she might burst into flame from the sudden jolt of desire that brought a flush to her whole body.

"Hmm?" His lips hadn't disengaged.

"Finished yet?"

He did release her then.

"Oh, Kate, I'm barely getting started."

With that, he took her in his arms and climbed up on the bed to lay her back into the mattress. He lay beside her, one hand propping up his head.

His other hand traced the lace running down the seam of her nightie, until he reached the ruffled hem. He went back to torturing her then with just a fingertip running along the skin of her thigh, just below the edge of the soft material. As he reached her hip, the digit nudged higher, sliding the silk up until it ran against the edge of her lace underwear. He was watching her, alternating between her face and the skin he was revealing.

He flattened his palm to slide it across her stomach, the satin now ruched up to her belly button. As if he had finally reached his own threshold for torment, he swiftly knelt beside her and hooked the edges of the chemise with his fingertips. She lifted her hips as he slid the silk up and over them, following the edge with tiny kisses over one hipbone and along her stomach. She arched up as he reached her ribcage and he uncovered her breasts, then he slid the garment over her head and added it to the pile of his clothes on the floor. When he turned back to her, she reached for him, tugging him to lie against her. She parted her thighs so he could settle his hips between them, adjusting his weight onto his elbows and knees.

She felt his hard length pressed against her, so close to where she needed him to be, and the ache at her center increased almost to the level of pain. He pulled her focus upward as he spanned her ribcage with his fingers, tucking them under her back and prompting her to arch toward him. His thumbs brushed the outer curve of her breasts as he latched on to one nipple, suckling gently.

She couldn't suppress the strangled little cry—she barely recognized her own voice in it. She kept reminding herself to open her eyes, wanting to watch his face, but with every new touch, her lids fluttered shut again.

He released her and moved to pay the same attention to her other breast. When she was writhing beneath him, he shifted his attention downward, tongued her belly button and began placing light kisses along the upper edge of black lace. He let out a warm breath over her center and slipped a fingertip under the edge of lace at each hip. He pulled downward and she lifted her hips, then tucked her knees together to one side so he could remove that last bit of clothing.

She recognized his intent as he guided her legs back to their former position. She wasn't going to last thirty seconds this way after all this buildup. She reached for him to pull him back up over her, but he just nudged one knee up off the mattress enough to reach under it and entwine his fingers with hers beside her hip.

She was bare before him now, trembling with the adrenaline and anticipation.

He brushed the backs of his fingers gently over her curls, and then stroked one along her folds. He trailed moisture up and circled her swollen nub slowly, the contact making her inhale sharply and grip the hand she held. He kissed the crease of her thigh and slid his finger back down to press inside her, making her cry out. As his tongue gently caressed her center, her hips bucked instinctively toward him. His lips closed around her, tongue now applying firmer pressure, as he slid a second finger into her and curled their tips forward. The sensation was too much, her nerve endings were singing, blood boiling, heart pounding, breath panting. He wasn't letting up, if anything his touch was intensifying, speeding her to the edge. She heard herself whispering insensible words, syllables that sounded like his name, on every breath.

As the first pulse of her climax built, she cried out and clamped down on his hand, still clutching hers at her side. Her inner muscles clenched and her whole body sang with release. He stayed with her through it, gentling his ministrations as she came down, and finally releasing her when her breathing slowed. He slid up beside her and tucked her against his side, holding her tightly against his chest and stroking his palms up and down her back.

She'd never felt so utterly helpless and completely out of control. If her brain were working properly, she would probably interpret it as weakness, but at this moment, in Rick's arms, she simply felt free. One hell of a fresh start, thank you very much. At that thought, a giggle escaped her lips, followed by another, and soon she was laughing, burying her face against his chest. She must sound completely insane; she felt euphoric.

"Kate, are you okay?"

Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes now and she took a deep breath to stop the giggling long enough to answer him.

"Oh my God, Rick I have no idea. I'm so sorry, this has never happened to me before."

Now he was chuckling, too.

"So I should take this as a compliment, then?"

"Oh, yes! Rick that was, that was, I'm having trouble remembering adjectives right now…"

"Hmm, so Kate dissolving into an incoherent, giggling mess after an orgasm is a good thing."

"Apparently, yeah." She took a long, slow, deep breath.

"Duly noted."

"Whew. Okay, I think I'm better now."

She lifted her head to smile up into his twinkling eyes, then rolled off him, flopping on to her back with a moan.

"Oh my God that was amazing." She turned her head limply toward him.

"Want me to do it again?" He was smiling at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Right now? I'm afraid I might die. I think my brain might actually implode. But yes, I definitely want you to do it again. Just give me a day or two to recover."

"Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and brought it to her lips, kissing the tender skin there. She shifted to place an open-mouthed kiss to his palm, then delicately nibbled on his pinky, swirling her tongue and lips over each fingertip in turn until she reached his thumb. She took that digit in her mouth and scraped her teeth along the pad, releasing it with a pop. His eyes had darkened again and the look he was giving her could only be described as lust.

She rolled back toward him and straddled his hips as she pulled him up into a searing kiss. His hands kneaded up and down along her spine, then over her hips and along her thighs.

"Why are you still wearing clothes, again?"

She moved to kiss his shoulder, his neck, behind his ear.

"Let me just go—"

"I have protection in the drawer there. I—so I was going to ask you. I'm on the pill, and I'm clean." She searched his eyes.

"So am I, I got tested for everything when I donated blood last summer." She hadn't known he gave blood then. Maybe they all had. But more importantly, he was telling her he'd been waiting for her ever since last May. Playboy image be damned.

"But birth control pills aren't a hundred percent." She looked at him shyly.

"I know that. I think I'm okay with it, if you are."

His eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. She'd decided; she was in this for good. She knew he was. One percent was a pretty small chance; before it had been way too big for her liking. With him it seemed a lot more reasonable, somehow. He reached up and took her face in his hands.

"Only with you, Kate."

He kissed her, and she nodded her agreement against his lips.

She scooted back and then reached for his boxers, pulling them off as he lifted his hips. He moved back to sit against the pillows piled at her headboard and she climbed back into his lap. He palmed her breasts, nuzzled against her neck, nibbled along her collarbone. His hands came around her sides and she realized her scar was right where he was touching her. She'd actually forgotten about it while he was undressing her. He didn't seem bothered by it now either, so she stopped worrying.

She was building up to a pleasant hum in her veins, a reemergence of that same overpowering desire, when his hands reached her hips and squeezed. She pushed forward against his erection as it nudged against her belly and lifted her head from where it had been tucked against his neck.

"I love you, Rick."

She lifted her hips and aligned herself, then slowly, surely, she took him inside her. His lids sank briefly, but opened again to watch her. He felt solid, steady, as he filled her. It had been so long it took her a moment to breathe, let herself adjust to the sensation as her hips met his.

She took stock of every place they were connected, committing this rightness to memory. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, hands gripping his shoulders, thighs framing his hips, lips hovering over his, sharing breath. He was looking at her like he could see the secrets of the universe in her eyes.

When everything inside her was deliciously relaxed, she began to move. As she rose and sank over him, setting a slow, even rhythm, his hands traveled over her hips, her waist, her shoulders and up into her hair. He tugged her down to his lips for an unhurried kiss. He brushed her hair back over her shoulder and kissed his way across to her ear. As his tongue laved the skin behind it, she let out a moan and sped her movements, growing impatient.

He held one palm against her tailbone, pulling her hips tighter against him and making delicious contact that threw off her rhythm. He kept her against him and slid down the pillows to lay flatter, keeping her on top of him and not breaking contact. From this angle he could meet her movements and rock up against her. Now with each thrust he was pressing against her in every way she needed, and soon she was gasping above him, face pressed against his neck.

Rick was whispering against her hair, quiet words of love and forever, fading in and out over the pounding of her heart. She lifted her head to look down into his eyes as her climax began to coil inside her. He pressed his lips together in a small smile laced with concentration.

As the first wave of release washed over her, she whispered his name and stiffened against him. She saw the moment when he gave in to his own climax.

"Kate, I love you."

She felt him surge inside her, pulsing in time with her own contracting inner walls. Time stretched out as they came together, the sense of rightness rolling off of her in waves. She dropped her head to the crook of his shoulder and panted limply, trying to get control of herself. He had found her hands and was lacing his fingers with hers, squeezing as his heaving chest began to calm.

After a few moments of quiet, she mumbled against his skin.

"I don't think I can move. Ever."

He chuckled against her shoulder.

"So now it's Kate melting in to a boneless, sated puddle on my chest after sex."

"Right. You're the one who gets paid to come up with adjectives."

"Adjectives require a muse."

"Well, if I am actually glued to your chest for all eternity, at least you'll always have inspiration."

"I can think of worse things than having you pressed up against me for eternity."

She smiled against his skin.

"Me too. But fortunately for both of us, I think I'm recovering."

She lifted off his chest and shifted off his lap, sliding somewhat unsteadily out of bed.

"Sex without condoms is messy." This was something new and unexpected.

"Hah. Yeah. I guess so. I'd be happy to wash your back if you want to shower off."

"I am so not up for another round in the shower right now."

He was up and following her into her bathroom.

"I said nothing about another round… yet. My suggestion was simply for the sake of efficiency."

"Right."

"And ever since your last apartment blew up, I've wanted to see you naked in a bathtub. But a shower will do in a pinch."

She turned on the taps to let the water heat, then glanced back and caught sight of their reflection in the vanity mirror, bright under the fluorescent lights. Both were still flushed, with pink splotches where his stubble had nuzzled or her kisses had gotten enthusiastic. He was looking at them as well, and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against his chest, tucking his chin over her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. Steam swirled and began to fog the top of the mirror as she covered his arms with her own and laid her head against his cheek. They both looked slightly mussed, a bit rough around the edges, but she recognized what else was reflected back from both of them. She hoped it would never fade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Enlightenment Extra: All Lit Up 9.5**

**M, again. Tell me when you get tired of it…**

It wasn't until his hand slid under the waistband of her underwear and his fingertips brushed against her curls that she realized how far gone she already was.

That twelve-letter clue, "A-H-U-G-A-N-D-A-K-I-S-S," had been one of the last that they had filled in on the crossword, and it had given Castle ideas. He was perfectly positioned to take full advantage of her usual boneless reaction to being kissed on the back of her neck, behind her ear, over her shoulder. She managed to cap the pen before she lost control of her limbs and dropped the paper to the floor with a moan.

He'd cupped her breasts through his own t-shirt, scraping thumbs over her nipples and bringing them to immediate, painful peaks. And then one hand slid down and was stroking her gently, perfectly as she curled herself back against his chest in a stretch. The hand that remained at her breast pinched her slightly, eliciting a groan and bringing heat and moisture to her core.

She could feel his erection pressing against her lower back, already insistent.

When his fingers focused on her swollen, straining bundle of nerves, she lost the battle with her vocal cords and called out his name.

"Yes, Kate?" His voice was gravel in her ear. He stopped the slow and purposeful swirling of his fingers. "Did you want me to stop?"

She dropped her head back on his shoulder. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him what she wanted. Leave it to the author to want the words, spoken out loud.

"Don't stop, please."

He resumed his previous caress, applying just enough pressure to build her up but not enough to overwhelm.

"Does that feel good?"

How was she supposed to come up with coherent answers with him tweaking her nipple, laving her ear lobe, circling her center?

"Yes."

"How could it be better?"

Wow, he wasn't standing on convention here. No demure whispered "I love you" in her ear; just a firm desire to figure out exactly how to make her writhe.

"Slower? Faster? Gentler? More pressure?"

Multiple choice was much easier.

"Gentler, just a little. Oh God. And slow, at first."

She had been vocal in bed before, but no one had ever asked her exactly what felt best. They had either figured something out on their own or not really bothered. As a result, she'd always sort of gravitated toward being the one in control. She had no trouble enjoying sex, and she prided herself on never faking anything. But typically that required being, well, on top. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd climaxed underneath a man. But then, none of those men had ever tried to figure her out like this man was.

"Better? Talk to me, Kate."

"Yes… Faster, please, a little."

He increased the pressure as well, without prompting, which was so perfect. She couldn't think anymore. Her hips were pushing forward and into his fingers. She gripped his thighs with both hands, clinging to them as an anchor in this rush of sensation.

Words were failing her. She was panting, eyes shut tight, head tossing back and forth on his shoulder, craving release. How could he do this to her, make her wanton and heedless and… needy? He put his lips directly to the shell of her ear, warm breath puffing.

"Come for me, Kate."

He increased the pressure and the pace until her brain could no longer process the sensations.

"Oh… oh God…"

"That's it, let go."

She cried out as she hit that delicious precipice, just before falling over the edge.

"I love you, Kate."

Her world contracted to a single point and she saw stars as her inner muscles clenched. He slowed to match the pulsing of her hips, prolonging the waves of pleasure rocking through her. He was whispering in her ear, but she couldn't understand the words. As she came down, breathing and heart rate working their way back toward normal, some of it made sense again.

"So beautiful. Sexy. I love it when your breath catches and I can feel it washing over you. I want you so much. Want to make love to you. Promise me you'll let me love you."

"Make love to me now. Right now. Please."

He slid his hands around her waist and scooted them to the edge of the couch.

"Bed. I can't handle couch acrobatics right now."

She smiled at him and took off on shaky legs toward her bedroom, dragging him by the hand.

She made it through the door before he snagged her around the waist and peeled off her shirt, tugging roughly, one-handed. She turned on him then and shucked off his shirt, palmed him through his boxers. His hips jerked to push against her hand and he inhaled sharply.

"Kate. I need you naked, faster."

She smiled wickedly at him and purposefully stroked her fingers over his length. Something in him snapped and he shoved her pajama pants down, taking her underwear with them. He removed his own underwear and took her by the shoulders to kiss her, long and slow and deep. He walked her back toward the bed and nudged her to sit, then climbed after her as she scooted to the middle and slid under the covers. He was on top of her, parting her knees with one of his own, then settling to pin her to the bed with his hips. He braced himself on his elbows and hovered at her entrance, looking to her for affirmation. She just smiled up at him and blinked one long, slow, blink.

When she opened her eyes again, he filled her with one long, hard stroke.

She cried out in surprise more than discomfort, but he wasn't small and that hadn't been gentle.

His eyes widened.

"Did I hurt you?"

She was shaking her head but he just assumed and kept apologizing. She had to grab him around the chest to keep him from pulling away.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Ssh. Hush. You didn't hurt me-just surprised me. Give me a second."

He dropped his forehead to hers, shut his eyes tight and exhaled. He was still berating himself, she could tell by the way he was holding all his weight off of her, holding perfectly still.

"Promise me you'll tell me? If I ever do anything that hurts you—you have to promise."

"I promise. But I'm not a china doll—I'm not going to break."

She lifted her hips up, pushing him further inside her.

"And this feels amazing. Make love to me."

He withdrew and gently pressed back inside her, watching her eyes, searching for anything other than pleasure. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he moved again, this time with a little more force. She hummed in affirmation, and as he withdrew again, she clenched her muscles around him, making both of them gasp. He kept the pace slow and even, and she met him thrust for thrust.

She found herself building up again in spite of her preconceptions about this position. He picked up on her growing urgency and stroked more firmly into her. Her little sighs of pleasure with each movement made him bolder, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, forcing her to arch her back and tilt her pelvis toward him. With his next push, everything fell into alignment. Her eyes snapped into focus on his face.

"Oh God."

He watched her, repeated the motion carefully, saw her eyes roll back.

"Good?"

"Holy crap. How are you—no, never mind, just don't stop."

He smiled up at her as he moved again.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

She heard herself making low staccato huffs of breath in time with his contact with her pelvis. His control slipped for one second allowing more of his weight to fall behind his movement, and she cried out as the vibration reverberated through her core. He recognized the shift in her response and maintained the higher intensity.

She was rushing toward the edge again. He must have recognized that, too, because she felt him loosening his tight reign, felt his rhythm shifting toward desperation. She loved that she could do this to him—break through the charm and the love and the careful handling and drag out this base, instinctual drive to be one with her. His reckless abandon was contagious—she was feeding off it, flying higher, nearly there.

When she heard him speak her name, voice rough and a little wild, her breath caught, held, and she shattered beneath him, dragging him with her. She felt him pulsing, hot and deep inside her, her name and a sob escaping his lips as he collapsed on top of her. Deep, shaking gasps wracked him as he came back to himself, breath heaving against the curve of her neck. He was dead weight over her, but she welcomed it, craved the feel of him against her. She wrapped his arms around his back and clung, fingers stroking over his spine, soothing.

When he tried to push up off of her, she didn't let go, wanting to keep him right there, never let him break the connection.

His lips found her cheek and he spoke gently.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Her voice still sounded unhinged to her own ears.

"Do I get to move yet?"

"No. Maybe in a minute or two." Needy. How could she be this needy, wanting the assurance of the weight of his body holding him to her?

"Any particular reason you want to be crushed in your own bed?"

"You feel good." This had to be some instinct, something intensely female, the desire to have one's mate draped over, imprinting. She'd somehow escaped it all her life until now.

"I'm heavy. How can you breathe?" He was just going to keep pushing. Time to channel Beckett again.

"I'm not exactly a wilting flower here, Castle. I could still kick your butt, even like this."

He lifted his head and pushed up on his forearms to look down at her.

"No way. You may be a badass, but—"

On principle, she couldn't let him get away with it. She flipped him so fast he didn't know what hit him. As she looked down into his stunned but smiling face, she raised an eyebrow and curled up one corner of her mouth.

"You were saying, Castle?"

"That was so hot. Can you teach me that?"

"No. Not gonna teach you that."

"Please?"

"Whining while naked in bed with your partner is not attractive."

"Fine. Don't teach me. I'll talk to Esposito."

She raised her other eyebrow. Really?

"On second thought, never mind."

"I would say in the past few weeks you've developed your own creative and reliable methods of disabling me. I don't need to add to that arsenal."

He grinned at that and raised his head to kiss her neck.

"Mmm." She couldn't help the noise. It escaped when his lips made contact.

"I guess I have, haven't I?"

She relaxed down against him, tucking herself against his side. He wrapped his arm around her ribcage and stroked his fingers along her skin over her long scar. She didn't like to touch that one—contact never seemed to soothe the occasional pull or ache as it did with the one at the center of her chest. But his hand was so gentle as it grazed over the suture line like it wasn't even there, that she actually took comfort in the repetitive motion.

He kept quiet. He might have been falling asleep, except that his hand was still stroking.

It was barely noon, but he felt so warm and the rise and fall of his breathing and the sound of his heartbeat were so regular that she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment flow through her body. She knew her filter was slipping, but she suddenly felt compelled to give voice to the thoughts spilling out of her sleepy, hormone-fuzzed brain.

"I don't let my guard down with anyone; never really have."

She paused, eyes closing before she continued.

"But I think it's different with you; you are my guard."

She felt him kiss the top of her head just before she drifted off. She wasn't sure if she imagined the words or if he really said them.

"And I will be, for as long as you'll let me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Enlightenment 11.5**

**A/N: Tiny bit of M-rated language to go along with the WAY-M-rated content. **

She was still shaking off her encounter with Alexis as she brushed her teeth in Castle's bathroom, with her toothbrush. She now had a toothbrush in Castle's bathroom. She should be way more freaked out by that fact, but mostly she was just thankful she didn't have to use the crummy one in her emergency bag. She had brought it in from her trunk, and even though she'd had to dry clean and/or replace everything in it since the CIA had beefed up her cruiser after it landed in the Hudson, she had not replaced the toothbrush with one as fancy as Castle's "extra" from a few weeks ago.

She'd washed her face, but she hadn't changed clothes, since she thought that maybe Rick deserved to get to discover the lingerie that had been torturing her all day. When he tapped on the door and entered, grabbing his toothbrush as she was rinsing, she flashed back to the first time they had done this together. Oddly, tooth-brushing seemed almost as intimate as the crazy, intense love-making they'd shared over the weekend.

He sidled up next to her and bumped her hip as she spit into the sink. She wiped her mouth on her towel—she had a towel, too, apparently—and then leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"You have a wonderful daughter."

"I woe." He slurred over his toothbrush. "Ank ou."

He spit into the sink.

"I shouldn't really take any credit, though, since mostly she raised me—and occasionally her mother and her grandmother."

"And now I think she's helping raise me."

He rose from wiping his mouth and turned to kiss her on the lips.

"She has a tendency to be the most mature, put-together person in a room."

"Where the hell did she come from, anyway?"

"If she didn't have my mother's hair and the exact same dimple on her right cheek…" He was smiling and pointing to his own dimple to prove his point.

"Let's just say you're lucky, Rick."

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in close, lips a breath away from hers.

"I would agree with that."

"And so am I." She gave him a peck on the lips and ducked under his arm toward the bedroom.

"Not so fast. Where do you think you're going?"

He spun after her, snagged the waistband of her slacks and tugged backward.

"Castle! You're going to rip my pants!" She was not smiling. Really.

"That's not all I'm going to rip if you keep teasing me like this."

"I am not teasing you—intentionally."

He had released her pants in exchange for her shirt buttons, which he was rapidly ticking open, arms wrapped around her from behind. He tugged the tails out and finished the last button, then moved to the clasp and zipper of her dress pants. In no time flat he had her down to her very sexy green lace underwear, still standing in the doorway from his bathroom.

He suddenly seemed to notice that her underwear warranted more than average attention.

"Detective Beckett, what was this—" he snuck the tips of his index fingers under the sheer thin dark green straps of her bra at the peak of her shoulders and then slid them back and down to the band "—totally inappropriate article of lingerie doing at the twelfth precinct today?"

She rolled her eyes, even though the effect was lost on him, since she was facing away.

"Was it, perhaps, reminding you of me? Was it suggesting to you all the naughty ways in which I could remove it once I knew it was there?" He slipped his fingers out from her bra and trailed all ten tips down her back to the waist of her underwear. He palmed her mostly-visible cheeks and gave a little squeeze. Oh no, she hadn't been imagining exactly that for the past 14 hours. Absolutely not. He squeezed again. God he had great hands.

He released her but traced the scalloped pattern topping the embroidered "V" over her tailbone. If she hadn't already been completely turned on just by having her shirt unbuttoned, this little inspection would have gotten the job done. Her stomach muscles clenched as he laid his warm palms along either side of her spine and extended his fingers out to reach around her sides.

There was something to be said, even by a badass post-feminist homicide detective, for being manhandled occasionally, as long as it was under the right circumstances.

He stepped up behind her and reached around to cup her breasts through the sheer lace. Her nipples were already pushing up against the fabric when he stroked over them. She wasn't sure which of them groaned—it could have been both of them simultaneously.

And then he was letting go and pulling back and oh, thank God he was getting naked, quickly.

"So I love this green swirly lacy fantastic whatever it is, but are you going to be terribly disappointed if I want to take it off of you as soon as I get my clothes off?"

She laughed and turned around to watch him strip.

"I thought you would never ask, Rick."

He was sloughing off socks, naked except for boxers, hopping on one foot and then the other in his haste to disrobe. He shucked off the boxers without ceremony and there he was, in all his glory, silhouetted by the light from the bathroom. Why was her first reaction to seeing this man always some version of "yummy?"

He flicked off the light behind him and stepped into her arms, pressing every inch of his front against hers. She rose on her toes, intentionally sliding the lace covering her breasts against his chest.

"Then again, there are merits to leaving this on…" But his actions belied his words, and he reached around and unclasped the bra, separating from her just enough to slip it down her arms and off.

His hands resumed their earlier exploration of her bottom, tugging her against him and almost lifting her up in his enthusiasm.

"These, on the other hand, have got to go." And he made it so as she laughed again at his decisive slide of lace down long legs.

They were left there, smiling and naked, lit by one bedside lamp and that glow of new intimacy that somehow lights rosy pink from within.

He stepped to the bed and pulled down the covers, then climbed right into the middle and held out a hand for her.

She followed him, mirroring his pose, kneeling in the center of the mattress.

He leaned just close enough to brush all the important nerve endings against one another, and kissed her sweetly on the lips. She reached for his shoulders to pull him closer, wanting to feel him against her belly, acknowledge their mutual arousal, and speed things along. The way he only reluctantly met skin to skin, she got the feeling that he wanted something slow, but she wasn't sure she could take slow after a day (it had only been a day, for heaven's sake) away from him.

He pulled back slightly to break their kiss and ducked his head to catch her eye. He deliberately sat back and unfolded his legs in front of him, then pulled her down to sit between them, flush against him, her legs wrapped on either side of his hips. She was completely open to him, both physically and emotionally, since they were sitting face to face. No tucking her face into his neck or burying her head against his chest from this angle. All her warmth and wetness were pressed against his length, trapped between them.

He wrapped his arms around her and gripped her ribcage to lift her slightly. She understood his plan and put her own hands on the bed behind her, raising up until she was perched at his tip. She couldn't look away as she took him inside her, fully and firmly.

"Kate, did we really just do this this morning?" He sounded breathy and desperate and disbelieving and exactly like the voice in her own head. It was a weird sort of internal stereo sound, hearing her own thoughts exactly echoed by his words. She found her voice somehow.

"I'm figuring out that with us, time is relative." Oh, so breathless and besotted. It was good that this was only Castle hearing her, because anyone else and she'd be worried about her reputation.

She leaned back into him, slipping her arms around his back and gripping with fingers, tips and nails.

He set the pace, slow, subtle rocking. He pressed his lips to hers and she opened to him. His tongue explored , tangled, caressed until she realized that the feeling of him moving inside her was more of an extension of the kiss than an end unto itself. Despite her earlier impatience, this rhythm was working for her. Really working. The slower the better, since it gave her some sense of control over the contact. And this contact was truly excellent. He kept adjusting his hips based on the pressure of her lips, the catch of her breath when they parted, the squint of the lines between her eyebrows as they met again.

She knew because she intentionally changed her expression once just to test him and he responded immediately. All that creepy staring over the past three plus years was apparently paying off in a big way. How the heck were her reactions to police paperwork somehow revealing of her pleasure in bed?

That question required an answer that required thought with big words. Big words were not currently in her vocabulary. She was basically reduced to single syllables at this point.

He called her out of her half-lidded daze with his bedroom voice.

"Can you go like this?"

She had to repeat his question twice to herself before she could form an answer.

"Maybe, I think so, I'm not sure." She got the feeling he wanted her to try.

She unwrapped her arms and leaned back on her hands again, shifting the angle of her hips against his, shifting the point of contact inside her. He took her change of position as a cue to slip a hand between them and dip his thumb into their combined moisture. She saw his eyes widen slightly as his thumb made contact with the place where they were joined, as if this contact, this physical assessment of their connection, somehow crystallized the change in their relationship. He slid the pad of his thumb up and over her clit, circling in time with the motion of her hips with just enough pressure to make her crazy.

"Oh, Rick, yes. Yes, I can."

"Go. Now. Please Kate."

And so she did, head falling back, mouth open, crying out with the pulsing of her muscles. As she stilled her movements, he gathered her in his arms and moved to lie back on the bed, taking her with him and forcing her to unfold her legs under and behind her on either side of his. She ended up plastered on top of him, legs wrapped around his, still connected.

He shifted his hips up and against her, surprising her with the force of her continued arousal. He repeated the motion, dragging a groan from deep in her chest.

"You can go again, can't you?" He sounded a little bit amazed, a lot turned on.

She pushed her pelvis against his as her nose hovered in line with his. She blinked and nodded slightly, shocked that she would be so able.

He gripped her hips and pulled her down harder as he thrust up into her. She dropped her head against his shoulder and a tiny, high-pitched cry escaped.

"That's it, go on, I can feel that you want to."

And that was all it took—she came again, harder this time if that was possible. Her body was humming, vibrating at all the right frequencies against his. As she crested the wave and began to sink, sated and smiling against his chest, he shoved up against her again.

"Hey, now that I know you can do this, don't think you can stop now." He was whispering in this gravelly, sexy, tone that she hoped he'd only ever used on her.

"Oh!"

She couldn't help the cry as he made contact with her extremely sensitized flesh, pressed at the exact point of maximal contact when they were wrapped around each other like this.

"Don't you stop now, Kate. I'm not letting you stop now."

"Fuck. Rick. I don't—"

"Shh. Yes you can. Figure it out."

She exhaled, collecting herself, then tightened her muscles around him and resumed the close, needful motion of her hips against his.

She didn't think to be self-conscious—he was the one telling her not to stop.

When the third wave overtook her, it was almost a surprise it was so sudden. His voice was in her ear.

"That's it. That's my girl. I love how you feel around me. I love feeling you let go."

She collapsed against his chest, completely boneless and entirely spent, panting and hiccoughing slightly as she tried to get control of herself.

He hugged her tightly to him and waited until she had her breath back, then he flipped them and was pressing her into the mattress before she even knew what had happened.

He had obviously used every last bit of control to get her through three back-to-back climaxes, and now he was letting loose.

She started to wrap her legs around his waist, but she didn't seem to have the coordination, so her thighs fell at her sides, without an ounce of strength to control them. He was balanced with his weight on his knees and elbows, and as her legs sank to her sides, he gripped her shins and pressed them more forcefully down and toward her ribs.

Her mouth opened in a gasp as he thrust deep inside her, the shift in their angle placing the friction of his movement against her internal sweet spot.

He didn't ask, just repeated the motion, and she gave the same response. She had never… but fuck, she'd never tried something like this with Rick, and she should know by now that was the most important variable of all.

He was drilling his gaze into hers with all the intensity of an interrogation, trying to interpret every signal she was unconsciously giving him. He upped the pace of his thrusts and pushed harder. She could feel him bottoming out against her at the end of every one. But he was careful to maintain a confident thread of control, letting her feel like she had all the time in the world to catch up to him yet again.

Her gasps rose in pitch until she was so close she could almost cry with the need for release. Her eyes were shut tight—that had happened sometime after she realized he was going to keep trying. Her internal muscles were coiled, primed, but not cooperating. Then he spoke in such desperation, she opened her eyes.

"Look at me, Kate. Tell me, and I'm going with you. I want you with me. I want you with me right now."

On principle, Kate did not take orders, certainly not in bed, but something about this one must have struck a chord, because hell if she didn't feel the climax pull her in right then.

She nodded to him and cried out as everything in her started to release.

He pressed his forehead to hers and pushed deep inside her once, twice, and as she clutched around him, he spilled inside her.

"I love you, Kate, I love you."

As they came down, his body resting over hers, pools of sweat cooling wherever air met skin, he pressed soft, gentle kisses against her shoulder, collar bone, neck.

Oh good grief, it was happening again. She tried to push it down, but she failed miserably. She was giggling.

"Hey, bonus! I found incoherent, giggling Kate again…" At least he still sounded out of breath, a little wild. She wasn't the only one half-loopy and fading in and out.

"Shut up, Castle. I just had four orgasms in about 20 minutes. I can giggle all I want to."

He chuckled against her shoulder.

And she did. F-ing man and his f-ing endurance. So much for the giggling-sated-mess version of herself being a one-time thing. She was apparently doomed to repeat this performance. Oh, God, she hoped she could repeat this performance. She'd certainly never had this many orgasms in a row with a man inside her.

When she finally got control of her laughter, she pushed her nose against his cheek.

"You know I must really love you if I let you live after hearing me giggle like this."

"Twice."

"Yes, twice."

He pulled back far enough from her face to be able to look into her eyes and withdrew his hand from where it was pinned between her back and the now-damp sheet. He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger, then tucked his thumb in and waved four fingers right in front of her face.

Oh, she was never going to live this down.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Four is a very nice number, don't you think?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Though really I think five is a better, rounder total."

She knew if she spoke right now she wouldn't sound anything like her normal self—high-pitched and floaty and post-coital. But she decided she couldn't let him get away with "five" as the last word.

"Rick, I think I almost died just now. My soul nearly separated from my body. We go for five, and I might never recover."

"Well, not tonight, it's a weeknight, after all. Maybe the next time you aren't on call, though…"

She couldn't help her slightly incredulous and somewhat loud outburst at that.

"Oh my God. Stop, Rick! Later. We can talk about this later!"

He just smiled down at her with a smug smile and a raised eyebrow, and silently mouthed:

"Four…"

She gave him a full eye roll.

"Okay, I want my pajamas now. At least they'll protect me from your nefarious intentions."

"You are such a liar… You know you're more goal-oriented than me. You hear the call of 'five' and want to answer…"

"Next time, Rick, maybe next time."

"I'm going to hold you to that. You know that right?"

She pressed her lips together and glared at him.

Oh, she definitely hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enlightenment 15.5**

**Yeah, M. Language and situation. Go read all of Enlightenment, or else this will just be smut. And we wouldn't want that…**

He was pressed right up against her core, and apparently he still had some of the reflexes of a sixteen-year-old, because he was well and truly ready for action. It had been about half a minute since he first laid eyes on her. That was pretty good even for a teenager.

She'd been ready ever since she slipped on this outfit. She'd been thinking ever since about this exact feeling, well maybe without the cold metal counter under her rear, but the feeling of him hard between her legs, just exactly where she wanted him.

There were way too many of his clothes in the way.

He forcibly removed his lips from their attack on her mouth and his eyes darted up to hers. When he spoke, his voice was all gravel and lust and male.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I really just want to be inside you right now."

She unwrapped her arms from around his neck and had his belt unbuckled before he'd even finished his sentence. His hands joined in and together they made quick work of his buttons and zipper. As he attached his lips to her neck, sliding tongue then teeth over the tender skin, she shoved at his slacks, and they fell around his ankles, belt buckle clinking on the hardwood. The floor, yes the floor.

His underwear quickly followed and he reached around behind her to pull her to the very edge of the island, nudging her thighs far apart with his hips. He still hadn't shifted to make firm intimate contact, and she was desperate for it. She didn't have to wait long, though. He slid one hand between them and slipped two fingers past the tiny strip of lace between her legs, sinking them deep inside her.

"Oh fuck. Castle, I want you inside me."

He slipped his fingers out and circled her pulsing nub once, twice, the third time she whimpered and reached around his shoulders to try to pull him against her.

He slid her underwear to the side, then spread her folds with his fingers, using his other hand to position his tip at her entrance. He pulled away from the spot where she would likely have a mark on her neck, and looked her in the eye, pupils huge and dark, expression just shy of dangerous.

She felt him pressing just barely against her, and then he deliberately shifted his gaze from her face to where they were about to be joined. He wanted to watch. A wave of moisture and a surprised "oh" cascaded from her lips. She looked down, too, placing her hands on the counter on either side of her for leverage and balance.

He went slowly, despite the initial speed of their arousal. As he sank himself in her, she saw him physically stretching and filling her. The sensation was so much more acute, more detailed, more intimate when she had a visual to cue her. Just as his hips were meeting hers, about to complete the motion with delicious friction, he pulled away and repeated the whole slow slide inside her. This time, he placed his thumb over her center and gently circled as he withdrew. Her internal muscles clenched involuntarily with the contact, and the sensation of him moving against her tight muscles made her gasp. He sucked in a breath at the same time, making her think he had felt the difference, too. Oh, good new trick.

A few more slow, controlled thrusts and he finally gave in, driving deep inside her and making contact with his pelvis against her center, his hands moving to clutch at the creases of her wide-splayed thighs. He returned his eyes to hers.

There was just no substitute for this feeling of utter fullness, the unmistakable invasion, the opening of herself and the acceptance of part of him inside her body. Watching his pulse threading through the veins in his neck, seeing the flush of arousal suffuse his chest and shoulders, feeling the muscles of his thighs and hips and back tighten under the muscles of her calves with the effort of bringing them both pleasure, she was lost. She was drowning. And then his hands reached up to brush over the sheer fabric covering her breasts. His thumbs stroked her already-tight nipples as he withdrew and thrust again.

She repeated the tightening of her internal muscles each time he pulled back. She'd never made such a conscious effort, but wow, she was going to do this every time now that she knew what it did to them both. He was panting against her collar bone, palms cupping and stroking over her breasts, driving her higher, making her breath come faster. She realized she might be close to hyperventilating when her fingertips and lips started tingling. She didn't think she'd ever been this out of control.

"Kate, are you…" His voice was low and serious.

"I'm… I'm really close. Really close." She couldn't manage more than a whisper against his temple.

"Oh thank God."

She chuckled. She loved that she could make him so desperate.

He obviously had figured out exactly what drove her to distraction, because he reached around her hips and tugged her flush against him, focusing his movements to place pressure at just the right spot, just the right angle. Her eyes clamped shut against the onslaught of sensation, and she tightened her legs around him and moaned low in her throat in approval. When his tongue connected with hers, he groaned into her mouth and sped their pace. As she felt her climax start to build low in her belly, she had to disengage from the kiss, keeping her lips almost touching his.

"Kate."

She opened her eyes to see his, very close, even more intense. His body was coiled so tight, muscles flexing, but he kept his eyes on hers, his mouth aligned, noses brushing, watching again, with a look so profoundly in love, trying to capture her expression at the pinnacle, just before exquisite pleasure overtook her.

That look was what sent her over. She couldn't deny him access—not to her thoughts or her emotions or her body or her eyes—when he looked at her like that.

She took in a sharp breath as the spasms started. He redoubled his efforts, propelling her higher before he spilled inside her, whispering her name against her own lips, brow furrowing with the force of his release.

It was strange, normally she would have tucked her nose against his shoulder to collect herself, slow her breathing, but she couldn't look away from his eyes. Everything was there. All the things he'd said and everything he hadn't. His intentions were laid bare, and he didn't try to mask them.

As reality began to lap at the idyllic shores of their hazy island of love and sex, she smiled.

"I think maybe we should move this to the bedroom."

"Really? You expect me to move right now?"

"The alternative is to stay standing, half-naked, pants around your ankles, in the middle of my kitchen."

"I see your point."

He gently pulled out of her.

"I had no idea I had that in me."

"Are you saying you're old, Castle?"

"Oh, I'm not talking about the crazy kitchen counter sex. You put that on, hell, you take whatever you happen to be wearing off, and I can do that any day of the week. That's just you, Kate. No, I'm talking about the restraint. I thought I was gone the second you made that sexy little noise you make when I hit—"

"What? Me? I so do not make noise." Her incredulous expression was probably ruined by the teasing grin she couldn't quite suppress.

"Do you really want me to call that guy with the nanny cams? Because I totally owe him some business."

She whacked him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Don't even think about it."

"Fine! You didn't have to hit me. I think I'm going to have a bruise." He rubbed his arm as he reached down to finally escape his pants and slide out of his shoes. He did pull his underwear back on, though.

"Think you're going to need those any time soon?" She gestured toward his boxers with an index finger.

"Not if you don't think so…" He slung and arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest, slipping his other hand down to grab her bottom. As he pulled her off the counter, she let out a little shriek and had no choice but to wrap herself back around him, arms and legs clinging and grasping for purchase as he swung around and hauled off toward her bedroom.

"This from the woman who wouldn't let me take off her lingerie…"

**A/N: Hope this met expectations for the naughty lingerie. Oh, if only this were what Stana was referring to in her red carpet interview! We can always dream. And keep writing (reading) fanfic.  
>:)<strong>

**-KC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Enlightenment 17.5**

**A/N: Sorry I am later than expected. A conversation with a reader made me stop and re-write the whole chapter at the last minute. I hope this will give you something to think about until Monday night. **

Miracle of miracles, they made it through her door with all their clothes still on.

This was not for lack of trying on Rick's part, as he seemed enraptured with the idea of unfastening her silk stockings from her garter belt as she straddled his lap in the limo on the drive home. But Kate held her ground—she had ideas about those stockings. Firm ideas. Not that Rick hadn't already been fully firm as soon as she'd climbed into his lap in the car. Oh, wow. She really did have a dirty mind.

But she'd batted away his hands every time they strayed too close to the clasps on the garters. She let him have free access to everything else, though. And as a result, they'd almost mauled each other in the elevator on the way up to her door. And she'd never be able to think of the outside of her apartment door again without images of him pressing her forcibly into it with his hips and devouring her mouth surfacing. But they had, in fact, made it inside with all clothing intact.

She flicked on the light switch with one hand, and dragged him in behind her with the other.

He grabbed her around the waist from behind just inside her door and plastered himself to her, kissing insistently along the length of the exposed column of her neck. Her entire body felt ready to burst into flame, all centered at his lips and his fingers, and of course the tug and pull of the garters, insistently asserting themselves along the front and back of her thighs.

She turned in his arms and attacked his mouth, tongue delving deep, snatching the flavor of his lips, his palate, the hollows of his cheeks. When he pulled her hips flush against him and again went for the hem of her dress, intent on the garters, she pulled herself away. Their trip to the gallery had given her ideas—wonderful, awful ideas.

He looked rumpled and mussed as she disentangled herself, his cheeks pink with arousal, lips swollen from their kisses. She had to fight the urge to just strip him down in her hallway and have her way with him right there. But she put a hand to his chest and stepped back.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course." He looked somewhat confused.

"Then go open some wine and I'll be right back." She raised her eyebrows and gave him her best X-rated smile, then backed into her bedroom.

She shut the door behind her and pressed her palm to her lips. She took a breath, and then she crossed to her bedside table. She took out the handcuffs and the keys, studying the silvery metallic bracelets as though they were the Holy Grail. Was this the right moment to invoke the "tiger" clause? Really, she just wanted to see what he'd do one-handed with the garters. The image of him unclasping her stockings was what finally did it. She had to see if he could. She wasn't sure she could even pull it off herself, but she thought he might be up to the task.

She found him sitting on her couch, glass of red wine in his hand, hers poured and waiting on the coffee table. She had the cuffs behind her back as she approached. She was still halfway across the room when he called her on it.

"You look like the cat that ate the canary, Detective Beckett."

She held out her hidden hand to reveal the cuffs. His voice dropped an octave.

"Or should I say the tiger that ate the canary?"

He didn't even seem fazed. He just had a wicked smile that kept growing broader and deeper on his face as she closed the distance between them.

When she stopped just in front of him and set the cuffs down with a rattle on her table, then took three big steps back away from the couch, he looked perplexed but still extremely turned on.

She reached behind her neck and unfastened the strap holding her halter, letting the straps fall forward. She took her time turning so he could see her in profile, and reaching for the zipper at her side, then stared him down as she slid it open inch by inch, revealing skin and then blue lace and silk beneath. When the dress no longer held itself around her, she pressed her hands against her sides and slithered it down her body, leaving it in a puddle at her feet, then carefully stepped out of it, still in her heels.

She turned back to face him in her garters and stockings and matching thong. He'd sat back against the cushion to enjoy the show, and his eyes had started to glaze over, dark and slightly unfocussed. As a wake-up call, she turned back toward her dress, dropped to a crouch to pick it up, and then straightened her legs with her body still reaching for the floor. She tilted her head to look up and back at him. He had shifted forward, elbows on knees, nostrils flared, face flushed, completely riveted.

She stood slowly and draped the dress over her chair, then turned and sauntered, yes, she sauntered, extra sway in her hips and arch of her back, showing off her bare chest and decidedly not bare hips and legs. He sat up straighter as she approached, but she warded off his reach.

"You got your private fashion show, so now I get to make a rule or two. First, I think you need a handicap for your garter-removing skills. No touching them until I say so. And second, you have too many clothes on."

She loosened his tie, slipping the knot and tugging it out from around his neck. Her next mission was to unbutton his dress shirt, starting at the collar and working her way down with an efficiency that surprised her after all the champagne they'd had. She unbuttoned his sleeves and divested him of the garment, then tugged his undershirt over his head in one swift motion. He looked at her with a smile that was equal parts surprise and awe—like he'd never been stripped quite so well or so quickly before.

She bent to unbuckle his belt and slide it out, depositing it with the rest of his clothes on the couch beside him and returning to unfasten his pants. He looked briefly confused when she took his hands and stood him up, but he seemed to figure out that he was just supposed to let her finish this job when she to slid his pants off his hips and to the floor. He stepped out of his shoes and the slacks, and she gave him another little show by bending to remove his socks. On her way back up, she snagged the handcuffs. In deference to the inspiration for this little adventure, she reached for his left hand and closed the bracelet around his wrist. She placed the other over her own left hand and snapped it closed.

"Now you can give the garters a try."

His right hand snaked behind her, palming her cheek and tugging her leg up to curl around his thigh. He flicked the clasp open and kissed her soundly, then reached his hand around to the front and unclasped that one, too. She knew he would be good at this, but this was impressive. His fingers caught the edge of her stocking and rolled it to her knee, then he disengaged her thigh from around him and broke their kiss. Their joined wrists had been trapped between them as he kissed her, but now he raised them up above her head and used his free hand to turn her around. His lips attached themselves to one side of her neck, and she groaned as his hands gripped her ribcage.

Her left hand didn't have anywhere to go other than to cover his, so she mirrored the movement with her free right hand as well. He slid them down her sides, over the lace at her hips, and then splayed his fingers as he traced up and over her stomach, finally cupping her breasts gently. Having her hands along for the ride was doing fantastically erotic things to what was left of her functioning brain. He took her nipples between his thumb and the side of his palm, pinching slightly, and she ducked her head to one side to give his lips better access as they trailed behind her ear. He released her breast with his hand, but guided hers to replace it, then snuck his own hand down to unfasten the last two garters. She found herself mimicking the actions of his hand as he continued to tweak and roll her nipple. His reaching fingers of his free hand pressed into the skin of her thigh as he slid the second stocking down. He returned to her breast, but covered her hand with his, letting her continue to touch her own skin.

Then he slid their joined hands slowly down, over her belly and the blue silk garter belt, to cover the triangle of sheer lace at her center. She unconsciously thrust her hips forward, craving his touch, and she felt him push his erection against her with his own thrust. Then he slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the lace, hers still following. He splayed his fingers to trap hers between them gently, then slipped further down and into her swollen folds. She felt how aroused she was and let out a gasp at the dual contact. The metal of the handcuffs was pressed into her hip, and she was sure his wrist was feeling the same pressure as hers. It was all almost too much for her to take, but she couldn't stop herself now, it was too dark and deep and reckless and right.

He moved to gently, slowly circle her clit, their index fingers pressed side-by-side. She sucked in a breath, having forgotten that small detail—breathing. His other hand was holding her hip to keep her pressed back against him. Her own free hand had never disengaged from its earlier task, though she'd lost her concentration and it was now almost slack against her breast.

He directed her finger lower now, but paused at her entrance, disengaging his mouth from her neck to kiss the angle of her jaw. Her eyes opened, she hadn't realized they were closed, and she saw his dark eyes looking to her for permission. She was so desperate now, she just whispered out a strangled answer.

"Please."

He slipped their fingers inside her, his immediately curling to press against the rough spot on her front wall. Her knees buckled as she cried out, and he had to hold her tighter against him to keep her upright.

"I think we may need a little… support."

His fingers left her then, and he grasped at her underwear to tug them off. She stepped out of them carefully, still in her heels and now decidedly reeling from unquenched arousal.

He slipped off his own boxers, her hand still clutching his. His hands returned to her waist and he nudged her forward, toward her kitchen island. Oh god, she might just implode with wanting right her in her kitchen if he wasn't inside her in the next forty-seven seconds. She leaned forward putting her weight on the elbow and forearm of her free hand against the cool metal of the table top. He wrapped their bound arms around her waist, fingers brushing the garter belt she still wore, and she felt him shift to align himself behind her. She felt him nudging her entrance and couldn't handle any more teasing.

"Now, Rick."

He filled her with one fast, hard stroke, and they cried out in unison. He didn't slacken the pace or ease the force of his movements, and she didn't want him to. She was totally out of control and already so close, the angle and the pressure and the little jolt every time he bottomed out inside her were all conspiring to send her over the edge when they'd barely begun. She felt him lean forward, his chest and abdomen pressing into her back, hot and slick with sweat from their exertion.

She felt his hot breath between her shoulder blades as he chanted out little whispered phrases that sounded like her name combined with "love" and "sexy" and at least one "fuck" thrown in. Oh, so accurate for tonight's activities. She felt him reach his hand down, dragging hers along, until they found her center again. This time, he switched their hands around and pressed her fingers against her, laying his on top, urging her to lead. She was close now, but she would come apart with this. She could hear the hot desperation in his panting exhalations against her skin, and could feel that he was holding back, waiting for her. Well, she hadn't exactly demurred at anything else tonight, what the hell.

She pressed her fingers with a little less force and a little more speed than what he usually used, circling in time with his thrusts. His fingers were right there, too, and she couldn't help but think he was committing this, just how and where and when she swirled and flicked and dipped, to memory to add to his already formidable skill at driving her mad.

If anything, this idea was apparently working against him—he sped up, let out a little grunt with each movement of his hip.

She turned her head to look back at him, damn the angle, she wanted to see what this was doing to him. His eyes met hers with a wantonness that overwhelmed her—oh, she wasn't the only one out of control here. His rough, urgent whisper was like nothing she'd ever heard from him before.

"I love you Kate. You're there, just let go."

She felt the first wave cresting, and her breath caught on his name as it fell from her lips. She had to turn her head back, rest it against her forearm as she came.

Rick squeezed her hips back tight against him and buried himself deep as he spilled inside her. Their bodies pulsed together, one aftershock triggering another. He laid his cheek against her back, heaving air in and out. Her legs were shaking, unable to hold her up. She stepped out of her shoes and he slid out of her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her against his chest.

"Need to be horizontal."

She chuckled at that.

He turned them toward her bedroom with a slight stagger.

"Wait! Keys… Keys on the coffee table."

She directed them toward it.

"What, you're crying uncle already?"

He nipped at her shoulder as he followed right behind her.

"No, I just need both hands for what I'm going to do to you next."


	6. Chapter 6

**Enlightenment 20.5**

"Hey, hold off for thirty seconds, hot woman."

She had slipped her fingers under the waistband of his jeans, reaching for the tail of his button-down as he unlocked the door to the loft. He was at a disadvantage, trying to complete the task while still holding both giant bags from Dora's, so she took advantage, standing on tip-toe to allow her lips to reach over the collar of his shirt and brush the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

The door finally swung open and he turned on her, ducking down and grabbing her around her thighs one-armed. She tipped forward over his shoulder and sort of fell into a fireman's carry out of self preservation, trying not to voice the high-pitched yelp of surprise her lungs were insisting on projecting.

"Castle? What the hell?"

She put one hand on his back to hold herself slightly more upright.

"Not exactly the most traditional approach, but since when have we been traditional?"

He stepped through the door, juggling her and her lingerie, then turned back to nudge the door closed with the toe of his shoe.

Oh. Tradition. Right. Maybe this was a slightly skewed version that didn't involve vows or a ring exchange, but she was moving in, and this was her first time through the door since they'd decided that. She somehow couldn't imagine him doing anything like this with Meredith or Gina, though. And what did that say, exactly?

"Rick, put me down before Alexis and your mother see you acting like a Neanderthal." Exasperation won out over indignation in her tone.

Once he'd gotten the door closed, he just kept walking past the stairs and into the living room. No noise from upstairs, no redheads sitting on the sofa.

"I don't think they're home yet, and besides, now that I have you up there, I figure I'd better take advantage."

Kate was proud of her self-restraint. She hadn't kicked, elbowed, or whacked him in any of the ways she knew would immediately end this romantic little caveman gesture. Like some of his other annoying habits, she thought maybe if she ignored it, he would stop. But as he ducked to go through the door into the office, she realized this was approaching the ridiculous.

He dropped the Dora's bags in his office and reached up to thwack her on the behind.

"You so did not just do that."

He did it again.

Enough was enough. She reached down to his sides and tickled him with both hands.

That got an immediate reaction, though not exactly the one she'd bargained for. He screamed like a girl, just as she'd predicted, but instead of setting her down and trying to run away, he'd actually grabbed onto her more tightly with one hand and grabbed for her hands, spinning around when he couldn't quite reach.

"Hey! No fair! Stop tickling! I thought we had a truce on tickling!"

"We did, until you decided you wanted to throw me over your shoulder and spank me! Castle! Stop turning around and put me down!"

Her head came pretty close to a bookcase on that go-round, and his balance wasn't faring so well now that she was wriggling and kicking and generally trying to escape.

"Stop tickling me!"

"Put me down, and I will!"

She couldn't help it; now she was laughing, too.

This was straight out of Lucy and Ricky's greatest hits, with a little bit of the Three Stooges thrown in thanks to Castle.

When he finally wised up and changed his tactics, reaching up to tickle the part of her side he could access, she did let out that yelp. The attack distracted her enough that she quit digging her fingers into his sides and lifted herself up to go for his hand in self-defense. That completely threw him off balance, and he released her with an, "oomph," letting her slide back down his chest to stand in front of him.

They were both out of breath, grinning like idiots and sucking in air as they tipped into each other to catch their balance. When he reached out to steady himself on her shoulder, their eyes met and simultaneously flicked to each others' lips. Levity immediately surged to lust, and Rick backed her up against his bedroom door, devouring her with a ferocious kiss. She moaned as he teased her tongue then sucked it into his mouth, nose flattened against hers, hands already under her sweater and working on the clasp of her bra.

She had his shirt mostly off when she realized they were still in his office. She reached back for the door handle, which in retrospect was probably not the smartest idea considering that all his weight was pressed against her, and she was pressed firmly against the door. When the handle turned and their support gave way, massive confusion and flailing ensued.

Rick's instinct had been to bear hug her as he spun into the bedroom, but thankfully he'd righted himself without tackling her. Now he walked her backward and shut the door, resuming their prior position in reverse. Before she knew what had really happened, he was tugging her sweater over her head and tossing her bra behind him, somehow managing to unbutton and unzip her jeans one-handed as freed her hair from the clip she'd tucked it up with after Dora's.

Oh, he was turned on, but Kate couldn't wait to see what he would do when—

"Holy Christmas presents, Batman- you're not wearing underwear?"

"Ha! I was in too much of a hurry to gift wrap, I guess."

He'd slipped one hand inside her jeans to start sliding them down, and now he added his other hand and slid the denim down to her ankles. She had to kick her shoes off to let him pull them off completely, and she couldn't help a giggle as he looked up at her from her feet with his sexy little smile.

"You are so naughty."

He stood and quickly shed his shirt and shoes.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Pure-Chaste-and-Innocent."

She was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, fingers meeting the evidence of his complete lack of innocence.

"I made no such claim."

He expedited his nakedness, then pressed her back against the door.

"I'm sort of liking the idea of vertical."

She chuckled and sought his mouth, then hooked her knee around his hip and pulled his hips against her.

His hands palmed her panty-less bottom and she grabbed his neck to hoist herself up, wrapping her other leg around his waist. She used her legs to lift herself up in position to take him inside her, and then relaxed enough to allow him to penetrate just enough to make him nip at her bottom lip and hum into her mouth.

She eased down, enveloping him inch by inch, until his restraint gave out and he thrust deep, pinning her hips against the door with the force of his movement.

"Oh God!"

Gravity and this angle were conspiring to make her vocal today. He set a slow, careful rhythm, making sure to connect with her pelvis in a little circle of his hips every time they came together. She couldn't keep her mouth shut—the sensations were too intense. What had started as little chanting huffs of breath escalated to sharp cries. She couldn't even focus enough to kiss him—just clung and concentrated on using her thighs to move in direct counterpoint to his hips.

He had just attached his lips to her neck, working his way up to her ear with warm, slippery kisses, when she heard the call from the front door. They froze, Rick buried deep, parting his lips from her neck with an audible pop.

"Hello family!" A brief pause with the closing of the door. "Alexis? Kate? Richard? I'm home!" Martha sing-songed as the sound of her heels hitting hardwood moved from the door to the living room. The heels came closer, muffled briefly as she crossed the shag rug in the living room, and then echoed in his office. They paused, perhaps seeing the bags from Dora's beside his desk. She must have seen his keys where he'd tossed them on the table inside the door.

She was trying desperately not to breathe, for fear of laughing. She had pulled back to watch Rick's expression, which was currently one of complete fear and mortification. Well, at least if she tried the door, she wouldn't be able to get it open…

Oh, that was not the right thing to think when she was trying so hard not to laugh… She could feel the giggle building in her belly and pressed her lips tight together, shutting her eyes.

After an eternity, maybe three seconds, the heels chronicled Martha's retreat out and up the stairs.

Kate opened her eyes to see Rick, still wide-eyed and teenager-caught-by-his-mom-with-a-girl.

She whispered, still worried about being heard by her near-in-law (oh, where did that dangerous thought come from anyway?).

"Rick—bed!"

He shook his head slightly, snapping out of it, and pulled them away from the door, swaying slightly as he stood back supporting her weight on his shaky legs.

He backed to the bed ungracefully and sat, Kate finally disengaging on a suppressed giggle to let him scoot back and under the covers.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"What? Afraid you can't be quiet enough to keep you mom from hearing?" She was in full "bad-girl-teenage-Kate" taunting mode.

"Oh, I can be quiet. I'm worried about you, Miss 'I'm Going Commando and Being Vocal Today.'"

"Now that sounds like a challenge."

He raised both eyebrows and she climbed on top of his hips, kissing him until she figured she'd turned his brain to mush. He had surged back to his former state of arousal, and she wasted no time in impaling herself. She had control of her vocal cords this time, though, so she was in no danger of crying out at the addictive sensation of utter fullness.

She watched him literally bite his tongue and inhale slowly through his nose, lying back on the pillows as she sat upright.

Now on top and in control, she set the rhythm, and it wasn't slow or gentle. She was working him up, rising and falling above him with chest pushed forward and inner muscles clenched.

He was such a goner, and he was going to scream.

She couldn't bring herself to be embarrassed about it knowing that Martha was all the way up in her bedroom, where she most likely would not hear a single sound. This was all about the innate fear of being caught by one's own parent, in flagrante delicto. If it were her dad upstairs, no doubt she would be just as uptight as Rick.

He was making a commendable effort holding back, but she could see his tells beginning to surface—he was going to lose it, and she was going to make him. He was closing his eyes, reigning in all the parts of himself that only minutes ago were surging forth, making their presence known. Eyes, hands, breath, vocal cords. They had all been involved, and now he was suppressing them.

She wasn't immune to this advance—she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It was at once a deep realization and an easy admittance. She shifted to lean over him, reaching his lips with hers again and aligning all the right parts to make them both happy.

His breathing was his biggest tell. He kept inhaling in little bursts, every time she shifted to clutch him deeper, grip him tighter.

"She can't hear us, you know."

She was looking at closed eyelids, hoping he would open them, and she wasn't disappointed.

He let out a little grunt with her next rock against his hips, seemingly against his better judgment.

"I want you in this with me—always Rick. I never want this to be a competition. I was joking—I shouldn't have. Making love should never be politics, or a contest, or anything other than exactly what it's called."

She continued to move her body over him, let him press inside her, welcome the intrusion of flesh.

"I love you, and you love me, and when words fail, we show each other. If we hold back, then why bother at all? I'm sorry I ever brought it up—trying to see who could keep quiet. I don't want you to, and I don't care who hears us. We love each other, and that's what this is."

He reached up and took her mouth then, wrapping hands into her hair and pulling her down against him.

He met her thrust for thrust, then, the force of his fingers a little desperate, the pulse of his tongue inside her mouth unrestrained. He poured a raw, reckless groan into her mouth as she arched her back and pushed her hips tighter against him.

She was driving higher, riding on a wave of recklessness and rightness and confidence that must have stemmed from her decision earlier today to make this her home, make him her home.

His hands moved down her back, fingers pressed into the muscles on either side of her spine, drawing her closer against him.

She sped her movements and pulled away from his lips to see his eyes.

She was on the tipping point, about to fall, but she wanted him with her, wanted to see him go with her.

"Rick."

It wasn't a question—just a half-whispered statement of assurance about whom she was with, the only person she would ever think of at this moment when her body and her psyche were in flux, when she needed an anchor. And in that instant, he answered her plea.

"I love you so much, Kate."

Her vision contracted, and her ears rang, and she thought she had stopped breathing entirely except for the fact that she was hiccoughing little sobs against his forehead as her muscles began to clench around him.

She felt him surge up and into her, as his eyes widened, fixed on hers.

They pulsed and relaxed, clutched and cradled until both were still, breaths mingling, drops of perspiration and what looked suspiciously like tears merging on his cheeks.

He tucked her head against his neck and puffed out deep breaths against her curls. Her fingers were trailing over his biceps. She closed her eyes against his warm, moist skin.

"I love you too."

He gripped her around the ribcage then, squeezing so hard that her scar pulled a bit, but she didn't mind.

"You really want this? You want to be here with me? With us?"

"I'm already here, aren't I?"

"And you're not going to leave? Not going to change your mind in a week when you wake up and realize what you've done?"

"I'm staying. The best parts of me are here."

He took a page from her book, then, and flipped them, pinning her to his mattress with his hips and cradling her head in his hand.

"But I don't want the best parts—I want all of you. And I need you to promise me that no matter what scared, scarred, nasty, angry version of you shows up in the middle of a case or in the middle of the night, that even that part of you will stay. Can you do that, Kate? Can you give me all of you?"

She couldn't answer right away. She could just look into those earnest blue eyes, asking only to be allowed to love her.

"You already have more pieces of me than anyone ever has before. I wish I wasn't so broken. I'm less broken than I was, but I'm still not what I think I could be, what I want to be, for you, with you."

A tear escaped, almost unnoticed except for the fact that he wiped it away.

"But I promise that I'll let you help me to get there, and I know that means not running when pieces start to break off, when I fall apart a little bit, or a lot."

She took his hand and threaded their fingers together.

"You'll have to remind me. You might even have to throw me over your shoulder and drag me back, kicking and screaming. But now you know how that works, so…"

She smiled in spite of herself and he laughed low and deep in his chest, clutching her hand in his.

"As long as I get to remind you of this conversation when you assault-tickle me trying to escape."

"If you abuse this knowledge and power I have granted, I will hurt you."

She kissed his knuckles, interlaced with hers.

"Oh, I know, never fear. I'll always have a healthy dose of respect and fear for my badass cop."

"No, Castle, no fear. Never fear."

They heard the front door open again.

"Hello? Kate? Dad? Grams? Anybody home?"

This was so far from anything she'd ever experienced, being an only child and then a single woman in Manhattan. People came and went here: noisy, needy, at all hours, with all agendas usually on full display. Her old self would have shrunk from the intrusion, the expectations. But something had changed while she was loving this man, wearing his silk pajamas and eating his Saturday night dinners. It crept up on her when she wasn't paying attention. She knew what to do now. She knew how to be part of this. And she wanted it, craved it even. She carded her fingers through his hair.

"We'd better go feed her. She sounds hungry. She'll come looking for us next…"

"Oh God… But she's so much smarter than my mother." He kissed her on the nose.

"Let's not tempt fate." She tapped her index finger on his chin.

"I didn't think you believed in fate." She smiled and looked up at him through her lashes.

"Maybe I'm starting to accept that fate believes in me."

**A/N: This just went where it wanted to—took longer, too. It has more meaningful character growth and plot content that I ever intended to put in one of the "Extra" chapters, but the M part was too crucial to edit it out… I've noticed the vast majority of readers seem to be reading both the T and M chapters, so maybe this split has all been for naught. Will take it into consideration for the sequel. We have barbeque coming up, so watch for that in the next few days. Much love for all the reviews, tweets, tumblr posts, and PMs. You have no idea how much I needed them this past week—thank you. -KC**


End file.
